


Ottery St Christmas

by zurimadison



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bakers Ginny and Harry, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Special, Contractor Ron, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Insightful Luna, Neville Cameo, One Big Happy Weasley Family (Harry Potter), Outsider Hermione, Slight Malfoy Bashing, house renovation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:41:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27927673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zurimadison/pseuds/zurimadison
Summary: When Hermione went to the small village of Ottery St Catchpole to sell her Nan's old house, she expected to be bored and restless during her time there. Instead, she learned about love, family, and the power of the spirit of Christmas. Fluffy AU Romione for the holidays! COMPLETE
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 33
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! I wrote this story as a break from my other one, and because I've been addicted to Hallmark Christmas movies this year. It's meant to be a fluffy and light hearted read. The angst is barely angsty and the plot will probably fall apart if you poke too hard at it. However, the fluff is about as fluffy as I can make it, so if that's your jam, then I hope you love this. I've written it all, and it's only four chapters, which I'll post over the next couple of weeks. My goal is to spread holiday spirit. :)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Enjoy!

Hermione

Ten days until Christmas

* * *

"I know, Mum," Hermione said into her cell phone tiredly, yawning and stepping off the train onto the outdoor platform. She shivered, not anticipating the cold wind and large flakes of falling snow. "Listen, I've just arrived so-"

"It's a tiny, dreadful little town," her mother interrupted her. "I couldn't wait to get out of there when I was younger. Fix what you can in Nan's house and take the first decent offer, then get out and come join your father and I in Aruba. My conference is scheduled through the new year, so we can talk about what to do with your life when you get here."

"And celebrate Christmas, I suppose?" Hermione asked grumpily, navigating through the empty station. She was already losing feeling in her extremities. She'd just arrived in Ottery St Catchpole, a small all-wizarding town in the north of England, and she was apparently not dressed appropriately for the weather.

"Not until we've sorted you out," her mother replied icily, and Hermione shivered again.

"I'll be fine, Mum," she protested, but the line was already dead. Hermione stared at her cell phone, feeling irate at the exchange, the weather, and the damned early hour of the day.

It was still dark when Hermione stopped at the foot of the Burrow Inn, gazing at it curiously. It looked as though it had once been a single story, but more floors had been added on here and there, the effect so disjointed that Hermione supposed it was being held together by magic. Despite the gentle yet relentless snowfall, she could see at least three chimneys smoking merrily from the mismatched roof. The sign, reading "Burrow Inn" hung crookedly from beside the old wooden door.

She placed her hand against the red peeling paint of the entryway, annoyed when she had to push her weight against it to get it open. A small bell tinkled as she stepped into the dimly lit space, pausing for a moment to let her eyes adjust. A big unlit fireplace was the centerpiece of the lobby, surrounded by plush red armchairs and couches that at this hour were devoid of people. She felt chilled to her bones as she walked up to the check-in counter. After she rang the bell, she waited impatiently for a few minutes until a plump woman with fiery red hair walked up to the other side of the counter, pulling her dressing gown around her.

"Welcome, welcome," she called, looking sleepy but hurrying to open up a large book. "You're here early," she remarked, although she didn't seem upset by it. She absentmindedly offered Hermione a plate of biscuits as she flipped through the pages. "I'm Molly Weasley; I own this lovely establishment with my family. You might see my husband, Arthur, tinkering around here and there." She looked up and smiled at Hermione, continuing to press the plate of biscuits at her.

"I'm good, thanks," Hermione replied tightly, imagining the nice warm bath she was going to draw as soon as she got to her room. Molly stared at Hermione as though unable to understand her refusal of the proffered baked goods, but she eventually put the plate down and picked up a quill.

"Alright, let's have a look, shall we?" Molly said kindly, pulling on a pair of glasses that hung around her neck by a beaded lanyard. "You must be Ms. Granger?"

"Correct," Hermione affirmed.

"You'll be in our Fire Room," Molly exclaimed, making a check in her book. "How delightful! One of our best rooms. It's up five staircases at the very top, with a splendid view of the town square." She handed Hermione a key attached to a broomstick keychain, and busied herself with pulling together several fliers. "You've picked a wonderful time to visit us, as there are a number of Ottery St Catchpole Christmas events going on this week. A bake fair, ice skating, and-"

"Just the key is fine, thank you," Hermione said politely, looking around her for the staircase. "If you can point me in the right direction?"

"Of course, dear," Molly replied, examining Hermione over the top of her glasses. "At least take these with you, in case you change your mind." Hermione begrudgingly took the fliers from Molly's grasp, eliciting another large grin from the latter. "Stairway is off to the right of the fireplace there. We'll have hot meals ready here in the lobby three times a day during your stay, so please join us for some family style dining!" She waved merrily at Hermione, who turned away and crossed the empty room as quickly as she could manage.

She'd made it up three flights of stairs before literally running into a tall, warm body while rounding the corner of the landing. She lost her grip on the fliers and the key, sent sprawling to land unceremoniously on her backside.

"Sorry, are you alright?" Hermione grunted and eyed the large, callused hand that entered her line of vision.

"Watch where you're going, will you?" She asked grumpily, taking the offered hand and allowing its owner to pull her to her feet.

The man in front of her was tall and broad, his faded orange t-shirt stretched across his chest and exposing the freckles all over his pale arms. His hair, which he wore shorter on the sides and longer on the top, was a bright red, contrasting with the subtle auburn of his full beard and mustache. His eyes were what stunned Hermione the most though; they were piercing blue depths on his chiseled face, framed endearingly by smile lines and seeming to twinkle at her.

"Didn't expect anyone else up and about at this hour," he responded, shrugging and throwing her an endearingly lopsided smile. "Ah, dropped some of your things," he said, looking around her at the scattered papers.

"It's fine," she snapped, spotting the broomstick keychain and swooping to pick it up. "I'll just be off, then." She turned to climb the next set of stairs.

"What about your fliers?" The man was already picking them up. "Molly gave you these, right?"

"It's fine," Hermione repeated dismissively, already halfway up the flight. "I don't need them."

When she arrived on the fifth floor, she unlocked the single door and let herself into a brightly decorated room. Hues of red and orange were splashed on every wall, down to the colored quilt on the moderately sized bed in the corner. She sighed, settling herself into the small, orange armchair and opening up her beaded handbag.

Thanks to some advanced charmwork, she'd been able to pack everything she thought she needed inside the purse. She pulled out her bathroom toiletries and a warm change of clothes, cursing the frigid nature of this town. She needed to go see her Nan's house as soon as she could, but she really wanted that hot bath first.

She dumped her stuff on the small sitting table and stood again to open the door in the corner. She found a cramped bathroom with only a tiny shower, tucked into a space where it really shouldn't have fit to begin with. So much for drawing a bath. She sighed again and turned the shower on as hot as she could, before shimmying out of her clothes. She reached a hand in to check the temperature of the water and almost jumped with shock. It was freezing.

She threw on the terry cloth white robe that was hanging near the sink and crossed her arms, waiting impatiently for the shower to heat up. After several minutes of ice cold results, she cursed in frustration and slammed it off. She stepped out of the bathroom and looked around her bedroom before spying a golden rope hanging from the ceiling in the corner by the door. Beelining for it, she pulled the cord and tapped her foot impatiently while it tinkled merrily.

She heard Molly's voice, sounding slightly muffled but amplified to fill the space of her room. "Thank you for calling the front desk, Ms. Granger; how can I help you?"

"The shower is cold," Hermione said succinctly. "I think the temperature regulating spell on this floor is faulty."

"My apologies, dear," Molly exclaimed. "I'll send someone up in a moment." The magical line must have gone dead, because Hermione couldn't hear the low drum of the background noise anymore. She sat down on the bed, flipping restlessly through the Witch Weekly magazine on the bedside table. She only had to wait a couple of minutes before she heard a knock on her door.

Relieved, she jumped up and threw it open, anxious to get the shower fixed. In the door frame stood the same tall redheaded man she'd unceremoniously run into on the stairs. She felt the blood rushing to her cheeks, suddenly aware that she had nothing on under the soft white robe and just how short it hit on her exposed thighs.

"You again," she squeaked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Ron," he supplied, smiling at her but not moving from his position.

"Hermione," she nodded her head jerkily. She cleared her throat. "Anyways, it's the, ah, shower," she said awkwardly, stepping backwards into the room. "I can't get the water hot."

"My mum said," he replied, giving her a wide berth as he navigated to the tiny bathroom. "The charm is applied to each shower locally. I'll just check on it; will only take a mo'."

His mum must be Molly, she reflected, as she tried to decide where to wait. She almost perched herself on the bed again, but couldn't decide if that would somehow be suggestive. She settled for sitting in the tiny armchair, folding her legs and arms around herself tightly. She listened to the man- Ron- tinker around in the bathroom for a bit, biting her lip to keep from smiling when she heard a thud and a long stream of colorful expletives. He was so large he had to almost back out of the bathroom space.

"You alright?" She asked him, trying to keep her face straight as the tips of his ears flushed the slightest shade of pink.

"Fine, fine," he shoved his wand in his pocket. "Fixed it, by the way. Warm water is flowing."

"Thank you," she replied, jumping up excitedly. Ron's blue eyes never left her face, which was a credit to him, she considered, as she felt the short hem of the robe brush against her legs again. "Well, I'll just…"

"Right," he started, then moved to the door. "Enjoy," he called, as he exited and shut it quickly behind him.

* * *

An hour or so later, and this time dressed much more appropriately for the still falling snow, Hermione stepped out of the Burrow Inn and walked down the main street of the tiny town. She could almost see the charm in it, she thought, now in the sunlight. The street lights were magically decorated with flashing lights and flying reindeer, and all the businesses on the main square seemed to have fully embraced the holiday spirit. There were elves dancing in windows and fairies zooming around dining areas. The streets were littered with Christmas discount signs and all the patrons seemed to know each other, calling amiably across the hustle and bustle of Tuesday morning. One of the hazards of a small town, Hermione supposed, was knowing everyone else and their business.

When she came across an unlit and rundown building, hidden just off the main square behind a statue of Boris the Bewildered, she found herself genuinely surprised at its state of disrepair, inconsistent with the rest of the village. It had a large, vaulted roof and old fashioned columns around its perimeter. The two stone lions who were perched on either side of the front double doors seemed to be napping instead of standing guard. The white paint was faded and the stones were all chipped. She stood at the rusted wrought iron gate, one mittened hand resting on the tops of the stakes as she frowned at the building uneasily. Why had it been so neglected?

She shook off the feeling and continued walking towards her Nan's house, referencing the map Molly had given her before she'd departed. Thinking she could use a boost, she ducked into a crowded bakery, enjoying the warmth that enveloped her and surveying the menu. After waiting in the line for a few minutes, she approached the counter to find a young woman with fire-engine red hair and friendly brown eyes beaming at her from behind it. What was it with this town and redheads? Hermione smiled, mildly amused, before stepping up to address the woman directly.

"A small mocha latte and raspberry scone to go, please," she ordered, digging in her purse for her money bag.

"Haven't seen you around before," the woman replied as she punched the items into the register. "I'm Ginny, and this is my husband Harry." She gestured to the man behind her, who had messy jet black hair and striking green eyes behind round glasses. He wiped his hands on his apron and approached the counter as well.

"Hermione," she replied, smiling back. Their happiness was infectious.

"What brings you to our little bakery?" Harry asked her, sliding an arm around Ginny's waist.

"My Nan lived here," Hermione explained, trying to pass Ginny her money and move the line along. "Eleanore Wilkins."

"Oh, Nory," Ginny cried affectionately, reaching to grab Hermione's hand instead of the money. "We were so sorry to hear about her."

"I- ah- thank you," Hermione replied, caught off guard by Ginny's genuine nature. "We'll definitely miss her."

"She was a wonderful woman," Harry added, nodding somberly. "Used to come in here every day for, what was it, honey?"

"Your scones," Ginny smiled up at him, and he kissed her nose. "Raspberry actually," she continued, looking back at Hermione with a knowing smile.

"Really?" Hermione asked. She'd honestly had no idea what kind of scones her Nan had preferred, but it warmed her to learn they were the same as her own favorite.

Ginny nodded sincerely, then waved away Hermione's hand, still gripping a handful of sickles. "First order on the house, for relatives of sweet Nory."

"Thank you, again," Hermione sputtered, rather at a loss for words. She took the receipt and stepped to the side to wait, watching with interest as Ginny and Harry continued to interact personably with every patron who walked in.

When Harry handed her her bag and to go cup, Hermione thanked him profusely before blurting out, "I saw an old run down building." Harry stopped and looked at her, cocking his head to the side a bit. Hermione felt her face growing hot. She had no idea what had made her say it. "A block or two from here," she continued, lamely. "I was just curious…"

"That used to be the library," Harry told her, somber. "The owner went bankrupt and left town. Building's been abandoned ever since."

"How dreadful," Hermione replied, feeling remorseful. "I'm sorry I asked.

"I'm sure someone will find a good way to use it," Harry said encouragingly, before grinning again. "Enjoy the scone! Hope we see you soon."

Hermione waved and exited the bakery, sipping on the hot latte while she walked the last couple of streets to her Nan's old home. It wasn't until she was standing directly in front of the house that things began to look vaguely familiar. She opened the old wooden gate and walked up the worn stone path, seeing that the windows and doors were boarded up. Her Nan had actually passed away a couple of months prior, but Hermione's mum paid for someone to manage the estate sale and weatherproof the house until such a time that they could "deal with the property."

Hermione cast a spell to pry the front door open, coughing at the cloud of dust that kicked up. She stepped into the entryway and waved her wand again to illuminate the ground floor. From what she could see, the house was quaint and very run down. She doubted her Nan had been able to spend much time maintaining it towards the end, and the wear and tear of normal living was apparent. Hermione walked slowly from room to room, eating the scone (which was jaw droppingly fantastic) and trying to remember anything about the space from the time she'd spent here as a child.

There was the fireplace where Nan had read to her on Christmas Eve. It was stone, and looked so cold now, so different from her memories of it blazing merrily. Here was the floorboard where she'd carved her initials, hidden behind her Nans' couch. There was the corner where the Christmas tree had usually stood. This was the kitchen where they'd bake cookies. Her Nan had a stool and an apron just for Hermione, and they'd always ended up coated in flour.

She paused in the kitchen, running her hand over the grooved and chipped counter tops. This kitchen was sentimental, but had no market value. She probably needed to gut it and renovate. She drank the last of her coffee, and feeling her stomach rumble, she decided to make her way back to the Burrow.

When she arrived, Molly handed her a plate of home made food for lunch and tried to usher to sit in the lobby with the other guests, but Hermione politely declined.

"Would it be alright if I just ate this upstairs?" She asked, accepting the plate.

"Of course, dear," Molly replied. "Just leave the plate in the hall when you're done."

"Thank you," she turned to leave, before having an idea and looking back at the innkeeper. "Molly," she asked, hesitantly. "I think I'm going to need to do some renovating and construction on an old property while I'm here. Do you have any recommendations for someone who can help me?"

Molly's round face lit up excitedly, and she patted Hermione on the arm affectionately. "Yes, dear. I know just the wizard to help." She smiled mischievously, "but you will have to eat in the lobby after all."

"Why's that?" Hermione asked.

"He's sitting right over there," Molly pointed behind Hermione, who turned to see Ron sitting alone at a booth in the corner. He was looking out the window, the light playing across his features favorably.

Hermione sighed, then thanked Molly. She took a deep breath and walked authoritatively towards Ron, before she lost her nerve. "Mind if I join you?" She asked him, sliding into the corner booth.

"Suppose you already have," he replied, smirking and taking a bite off his fork.

"I've just discovered I have a lot to do while I'm in town," she rambled, extracting a neatly written list from her bag.

"Did you?" Ron asked mildly as he picked at his plate with his fork again.

"Yes," she murmured, looking through her list again. "And I was wondering, well…"

Hermione was surprised when she looked back up to Ron and found him watching her attentively. "Did you want something?" He asked her, a small smile on his full lips.

"Ah, yes," she sputtered, licking her own lips and flicking her gaze back up to his eyes.

"And?" He asked her after a pause, looking amused.

"Right," she exclaimed, offering him the to-do list. He took it curiously, and examined it while she continued talking. "I need to do some work on my Nan's house, and I would like to hire a contractor to help. I asked Molly for a recommendation, and she said you're the best around. Might be nepotism, but..." she shrugged good naturedly, and he graced her with a lopsided smile that was equal parts fleeting and disarming.

"What's this then?" He asked her, holding up the list.

"All the things I could see when I was there this morning," she explained. "To give us a head start."

"Why do you ask an expert's help if you're going to try to do his job for him?" Ron asked her, eyes twinkling.

"So you'll do it?" Hermione asked him excitedly. "You'll help me?" He took another big bite of lunch, taking his time to chew while she bounced in her seat, watching him impatiently. "Oh come on," she exclaimed as he took a long drink from his glass.

He chuckled, turning his head to look at her. "Alight," he handed the list back. "I'll do it."

"Great," she said, relieved, and tucked into her lunch with newfound vigor. "Can we go today?"

"Why are you in such a rush to leave us?" He asked, polishing off his own plate and leaning back in the booth.

"Not a rush, so much," she muttered, avoiding his gaze.

He studied her for a few minutes, before announcing, "I can't today, anyways. Prior commitment, you know. But how about we get started first thing in the morning?"

"Alright," she agreed, disappointed that she had to wait. "Meet me here at seven?"

"It's a date," he told her, winking and standing up with his dishes. He sauntered away, whistling merrily.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else feeling festive yet? Thanks for reading!

Hermione

Nine days before Christmas

* * *

Bright and early the next morning, Hermione found herself standing at the bottom of the stairs of the Burrow Inn, peering around the corner into the mostly empty lobby space. The day was young enough that it wasn't overly crowded yet, although there was still a gentle murmur from the fellow early birds. She spotted Ron easily enough, slouched on a couch near the now unlit fireplace, dressed in a red and blue flannel and well worn jeans. He was reading the newspaper, looking adorably sleepy eyed as he sipped on a steaming mug. Wait- adorable? She gave herself a mental shake. Where did that come from?

"Ready?" Hermione asked him, seating herself on the plush red couch opposite. Ron glanced at her over the top of The Prophet, grunting and taking another drink of his coffee. "Not a morning person, huh?" She asked brightly.

"Surprised you are," he muttered, turning the page of the newspaper.

"Not always," she smiled. "But I'm ready to begin tackling this list."

"Right, your to-do list." He said mildly, flipping another page.

"Yes," she responded, determined to get going, despite the grumpy start. "Er, how much longer-" She was interrupted by Molly, who whisked over with a drink cart, offering beverages and breakfast scones.

"Enjoying your stay, dear?" She asked Hermione, pouring the tea.

"Definitely," Hermione replied.

"Happy to hear it," Molly said, wrapping up a scone and handing it to her. She turned to Ron, and snatching his newspaper, swatted him over the head with it. "What have I told you about being polite to the guests, Ronald?"

"Stop it, Mum, alright!" He rubbed a large hand over his head, fixing the hair his mother ruffled.

"Sit up straighter," she chastised, handing him back his newspaper before pushing the cart away. She glanced back and smiled at Hermione, before bustling over to other guests.

When Hermione looked back at him, Ron was gazing at her attentively, resting his forearms on his knees. "So I realized," he began, "that we never discussed rates."

"Oh, that doesn't matter," she waved her hand dismissively. "Just send me the bills and I'll pay them. Or, technically, my parents will."

He raised an eyebrow. "Impressive."

"C'mon," she smiled, waving the list again. "We have a lot to do."

"I suppose with such impressively deep pockets, I can hardly decline," he agreed. "Mum has some to go cups by the front desk."

She beamed, bouncing on her toes excitedly. They transferred their drinks and waved goodbye to Molly, exiting the Burrow Inn onto the main street.

"Wow," Hermione remarked, taking in the decorations that had gone up overnight.

"Yeah, we really like Christmas around here," Ron replied, eyeing the blue pixies zooming around the magically enlarged poinsettias lining the road. "And we're in the ten day countdown."

"What other kinds of stuff do you do?" She asked, admiring at the opalescent sheen of the baubles floating merrily.

"More decorations," Ron answered gruffly, putting a hand in one pocket and falling into stride beside her. "Some events. The biggest one is the tree lighting on Christmas Eve."

"Sounds magical," Hermione smiled. "My home town is nothing like this."

"Really?" Ron asked.

"My parents are in Aruba right now," she admitted to him. "They were never very… well, Christmassy."

"Why not?" She snuck a sideways glance at him, feeling a pleasant warmth to see his eyes trained on her.

"They're..." she struggled to find the best words. "They're extremely practical. And strict." She mulled in silence for a few minutes, glad that Ron was giving her time to consider. She glanced at him again and he nodded encouragingly. "They're both muggles, so it's hard to describe their jobs exactly, but they've always worked long hours and prioritized their careers."

"Was that hard for you?" He asked.

"It wasn't so bad when I started at boarding school," she admitted. "I'm not saying my life was difficult, don't get me wrong. My parents have just always pushed me to be the best, the absolute best, at anything I did. They wanted me to have a good job, to work as much as they did, to take pride in my career, and be at the top of my field."

"Those are high expectations," he mused as they continued to walk down the main street. The small town was slowly waking up, and all the owners opening up their shops waved at Ron happily, calling out salutations.

"That actually wasn't the worst part," Hermione answered, kicking at a small pile of snow.

"No?" He asked her, his voice surprisingly gentle.

She looked at him again, catching his eye as she replied. "No. The worst part was when I succeeded at those things." Ron mulled on this, nodding absentmindedly at a timid looking man who was opening up a flower shop. "You seem to know a lot of people," Hermione remarked, hoping to change the subject.

"My family has lived here a long time," he replied.

"You and your parents?" She asked him.

"I have a decent number of siblings," he gave her a small smile before turning down a side road. Hermione stopped walking.

"Wait, where are you going?" She called at him.

"Your Nan's house," he returned over his shoulder. She stared at his back, exasperated.

"How do you know where that is?" She took off at a jog to catch up with his retreating form.

"You're Nory's granddaughter, right?" He smiled at the incredulous look on her face and shrugged. "Word travels fast around here."

"But what about the list?" She asked him. "Shouldn't we go to the hardware store first?"

"You should probably let your contractor take a look at the property before you start spending money on a solution," he shot an amused glance at her, and she felt her face warm.

"I know enough of the basics," she defended. "I'm confident I'm not totally wrong."

"You are certainly confident," he finished off his to-go mug and dumped it in a trash bin before starting up the walkway to her Nan's house. She was shocked to see they'd arrived already. "And it's probably safe to say that you're rarely wrong."

Hermione gaped at him indignantly as he waved his wand to unlock the house and let himself in. "What is happening right now?"

"We're inspecting the property," he told her, disappearing through the door. She huffed and jogged up the walkway, muttering under her breath about bullheaded contractors. She closed the door behind her, following the sounds of Ron's footsteps into the den.

"You can't just break into people's houses," she told him sternly, watching as he stooped down to inspect the fireplace mantle.

"Needs new floors," he said as an answer. "Definitely paint. But so far, I only see cosmetic issues." He climbed up the stairs quickly. "I'll meet you in the kitchen," his muffled voice floated back down.

Hermione stood in the den, equal parts shocked and intrigued by this redhaired, strong willed man. She spun on her heel and marched into the kitchen, digging into her jacket pocket to pull out her wand. She waved it to cast a light, then waved it again to remove the light layer of dust that had previously coated every surface, before flushing at her own foolishness. What did she care if he saw this house in disarray? That was the whole reason he was here, right?

"New light fixtures of course," the voice came from behind her, and she turned around to glare at Ron, who was leaning in the doorframe. "Updated trim as well, and if you want to sell it for more, we should consider expanding the master closet. But overall, no red flags as far as I can see. Well," he frowned, and looked around the kitchen. "At least until now."

She peered around the space, sighing. "Yeah, I figured. I need to redo all of it, right?"

"I would," he nodded. "Counters, cabinets, appliances, the works. And…" he trailed off, looking at the ceiling.

"What?" She followed his gaze, alarmed.

He lit his wand tip and held it up, squinting at the faded wallpaper in the corner of the room. "That could be water damage," he said faintly, taking a few steps towards it.

"What?" She repeated, this time more concerned.

"We won't know for sure until I can open it up. What room is directly above here?" He asked, turning to look at her.

"The bathroom," she said, feeling her heart sink. "Damn."

"Don't stress yet, let's wait and see," he answered, deluminating his wand. He moved again to stand on the other side of the peninsula counter from her. She ran her fingers over the grooves in it absentmindedly, biting her lip.

"This looks well loved," he interrupted her thoughts, touching the nicks on the counter close to her hand. She was surprised his large callused hands could move so gently.

"It was," she smiled, dragging her gaze away from the closeness of their fingers and up to his blue eyes. "I used to bake here with my Nan at Christmas. She called it the Evergreen Cottage."

"Really?" He asked her, looking surprised. "I grew up here, and I don't remember ever seeing you around."

"Maybe you just didn't notice me," she teased.

"I'm pretty sure I'd remember you," he answered, ears flushing the slightest pink. He withdrew his hand from the counter and cleared his throat. "Baking, huh?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "I'm afraid the lessons didn't stick though, since I'm not any good now."

"I'm decent," he admitted, surprising her. "It's in my blood, although I'm not nearly as talented as the rest of my family. You've had my mum and sister's scones, so you understand."

She blinked at him in surprise, taking a moment to process the information. "Your sister is… Ginny?"

His ears tinged pink again and he smiled down at her sheepishly, albeit quite endearingly. "Erm, yeah, Ginny is my sister."

"That's how you knew who my Nan was!" She exclaimed, snickering. "Small town gossip, my arse, look no further than your immediate relatives."

He laughed with her, and she found that she enjoyed the sound. "So what's next?" Hermione asked. "You've seen the property, can we go to the hardware store now?"

"I've done a quick walkthrough," Ron shook his head. "I'd like to give a more thorough inspection before we order supplies. Since you're so fond of lists, would you like to accompany me and help document?" He turned towards the door, offering his arm.

"I'd be delighted," she smiled, slipping her arm into his.

"Excellent," he flashed her his lopsided smile. "Let's start upstairs and work our way down."

* * *

Several hours and one takeout lunch later, Ron and Hermione sat on the floor of the rundown kitchen, digging through their fast food Chinese boxes and going over the updated to-do list.

"We decided on white trim for the ground floor," Hermone said, using her wand to add a check mark to the list.

"And natural pine for the bedrooms," Ron agreed, shoving a huge bite into his mouth and causing Hermione to snort with laughter.

"Well, this is a much more thorough list than I had this morning," she admitted, reading over it again. "I'm excited to get started."

"I can place an order for the supplies with my contacts this afternoon," Ron told her, putting down the now empty box and rubbing his stomach contentedly. "They'll deliver late tomorrow, so we can get started first thing in the morning the following day."

"Not now?" She asked, disappointed. He shook his head.

"Nah, no point. This is a big order, and it'll take some time to pull together." Hermione slumped back against the fridge, frowning. Ron chuckled.

"I have to wait two days?" She complained.

"Tell you what," he replied, tossing her a fortune cookie. "Let's have some fun tomorrow. The town is holding our annual Christmas bake fair in the afternoon."

"That does sound fun," Hermione said absently, cracking open her cookie. "But I should probably do research tomorrow, you know, to prep for all this work."

"No, don't be like that," Ron coaxed, leaning back against a cabinet and placing an arm behind his head. "Ginny and Harry will be there. You like them, right?"

"I do," she answered, telling herself not to stare at his bicep. Out of desperation to look anywhere else, she focused on the small paper in her hand. _You will take a chance on something in the near future._

"Come with me," his voice sounded deeper as it washed over her. She looked up at him again, the large but gentle man sitting on the floor of her Nan's old kitchen, smiling at her.

"Alright," she agreed, feeling the now familiar flutter in her chest as he shot her that patented lopsided smile.

* * *

Hermione

Eight days before Christmas

* * *

What would her mum say if she could see her now? Hermione stared at her reflection in the mirror of the tiny red and orange room she was renting. Here she was, unemployed and worrying about what she was going to wear to a bake fair with the locals. Yet, Hermione couldn't seem to fully suppress the gentle flutter of her stomach or the excited nervousness manifesting as a small smile on her lips. The locals were a much needed breath of fresh air. She felt so flattered that they'd accepted her, and despite feeling undeserving of the honor, couldn't wait to spend more time with them.

She'd spent the morning reading up on magical home renovation techniques, despite what she told Ron. That was why she was here after all, and she always attacked every challenge she faced. It was almost time to meet Ron for lunch, which they'd agreed to before they went to the bake fair. Why did that make her want to over analyze what she was wearing? She bit her lip, trying to fight the smile again.

Hermione went downstairs, happy to see that Ron was already sitting at a table. "Hey," she said, taking the seat across from him.

"Hi," he smiled. "Ready for your introduction to small town Christmas fairs?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," she answered. "I did find an article about wizarding village traditions and-"

"Blimey," he laughed gently. "I didn't expect you'd actually research."

"I just like to be prepared," she responded, flushing.

"I see that," Ron said, bemused. "I like that about you actually. For today, though, I think that you should just let me show you around."

"I could try," Hermione replied, frowning doubtfully.

"You won't regret it," he promised her, looking so sincere that she soon found herself smiling again.

Molly came by with plates of shepard's pie and goblets of eggnog, greeting all the guests with equal enthusiasm. Hermione raised her eyebrow as they cheersed, watching all the patrons partake in the beverage so early in the day. "Is this alcoholic?" She asked, smelling the contents of her goblet.

"First tradition," Ron grinned. "Day drinking. And since you've agreed to let me show you the authentic experience…" He held out his glass expectantly and she shrugged, tapping her goblet to his and taking a swig of eggnog.

"Don't forget we're closed for dinner tonight, dear," Molly told her about twenty minutes later, as she and Ron stood by the front door of the inn. "So Arthur and I can enjoy the festival ourselves."

"She's not likely to forget, is she, mum?" Ron asked her, rolling his eyes. "She'll be out with me and Ginny."

"Do you have a jumper?" Molly asked her, ignoring her son's jibe.

Hermione looked doubtfully down at her outfit. "Er, no, I thought this would be warm enough."

"No, that won't do," Molly tsked, disappearing into another room behind the check-in counter. She emerged quickly with something knitted and maroon, handing it to Hermione. "I always keep some spares back here for guests. It gets very cold after the sun sets," she added sternly.

"Ok, mum, I think we're ready," Ron said gently, wrapping his arm around Hermione and turning her towards the door. "That's enough of your doting." He led Hermione firmly outside, keeping his arm around her a fraction of a second longer than he needed to before they began walking down the street towards the fair.

"Is this an R?" Hermione asked, having unfolded the jumper and held it up in front of her. "For Ron?"

"Yeah," Ron nodded, pulling a beanie hat onto his head and down over his ears.

"Why does she have your jumper?" Hermione asked, folding it back up and tucking it into her small beaded bag. "Surely she doesn't still do your laundry?" She smiled at him teasingly.

"Nah," Ron nudged her with his shoulder. "She makes one for all of us every year for Christmas. There are dozens of maroon jumpers with R's on them floating around this town by now."

"Does she live at the inn?" Hermione asked interestedly.

"Yup, always have. I grew up there, in fact," Ron said.

"You grew up in the Burrow Inn?" Hermione repeated, slightly surprised.

"Yeah, I mentioned siblings right? Well six of us meant a nice six bedroom inn as a retirement plan for my parents." Hermione loved the way he smiled when he talked about his family. "It keeps them busy and makes a decent living."

"Which room was yours?" Hermione asked, fascinated.

"Er, actually the one you're staying in," he answered, tucking a hand into his pocket.

"Oh- OH," she responded, feeling her face heat. "What about now?" She asked, trying to refocus the conversation.

"I have my own flat," he answered. "Only a few blocks away. But I like to spend time at the Burrow, especially around the holidays, to help out my parents."

"I guess everything around here is only a few blocks away," Hermione mused.

"You're catching on," he smiled. By then they'd arrived in front of Ginny and Harry's bakery. Ron pushed open the door, ignoring the tiny squeak of 'sorry, but we're closed today' from the elf sculpture on the frame.

"Oh good, you're here," Ginny greeted them as she promptly shoved boxes into Ron's arms. She had flour on her apron and cheek, and her red hair was held in its knot on the top of her head with her wand. "Help us carry stuff, will you?" She gestured to the stack of containers and plywood near the door. "We need to get going if we want to get the booth set up in time. Hi Hermione, so good to see you again." She smiled distractedly and gave her a quick hug.

"Happy to help," Hermione replied, returning her embrace.

"No hugs for brothers, huh?" Ron teased. "Just for people you've met once?"

"I already like her more," Ginny called over her shoulder as she jogged behind the counter. She disappeared into the stock room, yelling for Harry.

Hermione turned to inspect the pile, picking up a box experimentally. "They've been charmed to be lighter," she appraised, feeling how deceptively little the container weighed.

"S'pose so," Ron said, watching her over the top of the box he was still holding. "We only need to go a couple of blocks, so she usually levitates most of them to get there."

Hermione opened up her beaded bag, peered into it, then held it out to Ron. "Here, I have some room." He raised his eyebrow, but she smirked and gestured for him to get on with it. The two of them maneuvered the container into the beaded bag, which despite appearing to be significantly too small, accepted its new load readily. Ron whistled, then stared at her with wide eyes.

"Did you…" The voice came from behind her, and she spun around to see Harry and Ginny at the counter, looking flabbergasted.

"What?" She asked nervously. "It's just an Undetectable Extension charm."

"We know," Ginny said, slackjawed. "That's extremely difficult magic."

"It's very impressive," Harry croaked. "Did you do that yourself?"

"Er, yeah," Hermione wrung her hands, worried that she'd done something to ruin the rest of the day. "Before I came here. I thought it would help with all the work I might need to do at Nan's."

They looked at each other for a few more moments, before she heard Ron's voice from behind her.

"So you're also brilliant?" She looked over at Ron, who was positively beaming at her. "Now I know we should keep you around. C'mon, let's get the rest."

She felt a surge of gratitude towards him, and they began to pack the boxes into her beaded bag. Ginny and Harry helped, and soon they were walking out of the store front and towards the main square.

"Sorry about before," Harry told her as they walked. "The bake fair is fun, but a little stressful for Gin and I. Your bag is absolutely amazing, and you are such a good friend to help us."

"Thanks Harry," Hermione smiled at him. "I appreciate you letting me join you! I'm looking forward to seeing more of Ottery St Catchpole's traditions."

"Oh you wait," Ginny looped her arm through Hermione's, walking next to her happily. "They don't call it the most wonderful time of the year for nothing."

A couple hours later, Ginny and Harry's booth successfully set up, Hermione found herself wandering the bake fair with Ron. They drank spiked hot chocolate and tried increasingly outrageous confections, stopping in all the booths. Ron knew everyone, and seemed to be well liked, Hermione thought. She laughed harder than any time in her recent memory when he braved some Red Hot Snowflakes and steam poured out of his ears. She met another of Ron's siblings, his brother Bill, who was walking around with his wife and two small children. They explored the pocket of pine trees that had been magically conjured in the middle of the square, and decorated to look exactly like Narnia. She squealed with excitement and explained all the details of the book to Ron as they walked through the tiny forest, and he followed along with her enthusiastically, eyes twinkling.

Later that evening, when the sky opened up to a gentle dusting of large snowflakes, Hermione found that she didn't mind them as much as she had a couple days ago. She felt metaphorically high on the activities of the day, and literally a little tipsy as firewhiskey warmed her pleasantly from the inside. She smiled blissfully over at Ron, who was sitting on a bench beside her and laughing at his nephew's antics. His face was pleasantly pink from the cold and drinks, and snowflakes settled artistically onto his hat and shoulders, completing the idyllic picture.

"Thank you for bringing me today, Ron," she told him. "This was absolutely perfect."

"It was fun, wasn't it?" He stretched his arm behind her on the back of the bench, beaming. "I love this time of year."

"It's pretty hard to resist, when it's like this," she agreed. "And I'm glad your mum made me pack this jumper after all."

She thought his eyes seemed to darken a bit as he cleared his throat and told her huskily, "me too. You look good in it." She flushed, feeling drawn to his crystal blue eyes as though they were whirlpools.

A snowball smacked the side of his face unexpectedly, covering both of them in snow.

"Wha-?" Ron sputtered, looking around wildly. Bill was roaring with laughter, helping his children make more snowballs. "Oh, it's on," Ron grinned, jumping out of his seat to retaliate. "C'mon." He grabbed Hermione's mittened hand in his own and pulled her to crouch behind the bench, gracing her with his full crooked grin. (Third time today, but who's counting?) "How's your aim?"

For the briefest of moments, Hermione hesitated, unbidden images of her mother's reaction to the situation pushed to the front of her mind. She could hear the lectures about being unfocused, her appalling behaviour in public, her unprofessionalism. She bit her lip, catching Ron's expectant gaze, corners of his mouth tugged up as he waited for her answer.

"Abysmal," she answered him, breaking into a smile. "I'll make them, you throw."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter after this! Thanks for reading, let me know what you think.

Hermione

Five days before Christmas

* * *

Hermione used the back of her hand to wipe away the sweat dripping down her brow, feeling a few curls, escaped from the pile on top of her head, brushing her shoulders and neck loosely. She gazed up at Ron, who was standing on a ladder investigating the large hole in the wall they'd made to assess the extent of the water damage in her Nan's kitchen.

They'd spent the last couple of days doing demolition on the house, and although aided by magic, which sped up the process significantly, the work was still quite physical. The spells had to be cast precisely, otherwise they risked causing damage where they didn't want it. They'd been crawling all over the house, stripping wallpaper, pulling up carpet, knocking down cabinets, the works. This morning, Hermione had started upstairs with the painting and reflooring spells Ron taught her, and she was covered in both the white dust of plaster, which stuck to her in sweaty clumps, and splatters of the neutral grey paint color they'd chosen for the walls.

"Well?" She asked impatiently, and Ron huffed his answer. He leaned further into the hole, muttering several spells that Hermione didn't recognize. She tried to ignore how good his bum looked in those jeans, placing her hands on her hips and sighing loudly. After several long moments, he swung around and perched himself on the top of the ladder, looking down at her.

"It's not great," he said, wincing. "Looks like there'd been a slow leak in here for a while. We need to do some major structural rework behind this wall."

Hermione gaped, processing the information. "No, that can't be right."

"It's right," he climbed down and came over to stand by the counter with her.

"What does it mean?" She sputtered.

"Some more money." He pushed his red hair, which was clinging to his freckled forehead, out of his eyes. "A few more days."

"How long til I can sell?" Hermione asked, exasperated. "This is already taking more time than I hoped."

Ron examined her, tilting his head to the side. "Let's get some lunch." He summoned their jackets from the rack by the door and tossed one to her. "I think we need a break."

"We have been at this for awhile," she mumbled, pulling the coat on and avoiding his eyes.

They locked the house and walked a few blocks over to a small restaurant of Ron's recommendation. Hermione sat down tiredly in a chair, pulling off her scarf. The server came by for their drink orders, and they sat quietly for several minutes, examining their menus.

"Why are you trying to move so quickly?" Ron broke the ice, although he kept his gaze down on the menu.

"I came here as a favor to my parents," she replied absently. "Mum wants me to offload the property as quickly as possible so I can meet them for Christmas."

"Offload?" Something in his tone made her look up at him, catching his hurt expression. The server came by again, prolonging the awkwardness. After delivering their drinks and taking the food order, he cleared the menus, leaving the pair in an uncomfortable silence.

"Look, I'm sorry," Hermione said, reaching across the table and resting her hand gently on his. "I didn't mean to sound so… self-centered."

"What did you mean, then?" He asked, his eyes searching her face.

"Just repeating my mum's words; she always hated it here." Hermione removed her hand from Ron's and pushed her hair behind her ear, flustered. "I feel like I'm not explaining very well."

"From the top then," Ron encouraged. When she paused, unsure of how to start, he questioned her gently. "You said you used to visit your Nan at Christmas time, but I grew up here and I really don't remember you."

"Nan moved shortly before I was born, I think," Hermione explained. "I have vague memories of coming here and seeing her when I was little, but we stopped visiting pretty early on. Around the time I started boarding school, actually."

"Why?" Ron inquired, scratching at his neck.

"Like I said, my mum hated coming here," Hermione shrugged apologetically. "She thinks it's small and slow, and my parents started working through the Christmas holidays instead."

"That explains why I don't remember you," Ron mused. "If you stopped coming that many years ago."

Hermione nodded. "So Mum wants me to sell the property quickly and go meet her and Dad." The server arrived with their food, and Hermione dug into her burger enthusiastically.

"Seeing your parents for the holidays," Ron continued, pounding the bottom of the ketchup bottle. "That's nice, right?"

"It is. Kinda. I guess." She sighed. "Honestly, I don't really want to go," Hermione admitted, picking at her plate with less fervor. "Is that terrible?"

"Depends," he answered delicately. "What is it that you're avoiding?"

"So, don't judge me." Hermione took a nervous sip of her drink and met the blue wells of Ron's eyes. "There's- erm- something I haven't mentioned yet."

"Scout's honor," he smiled.

"Ok… well," she said glumly, feeling as though the perfect distraction that had been this small town was collapsing in around her. "This time one week ago, I was… employed. One of the most promising young lawyers at the Ministry of Magic, in fact."

"And now?" His fork paused halfway to his mouth, Ron watched her expectantly.

She blew out a deep breath. "I quit," she dropped her own fork on her plate with a clatter and leaned back in her chair. Unburdening herself of this great secret made her lighter, because she didn't have to lie anymore, but also worried, because now Ron would know she was a failure. She met his gaze, and he gave her a small smile, waiting in silence. "My entire life, I've done everything my parents ever wanted me to do. I graduated top of my class, got a great job, worked long, hard hours, and prioritized my career over everything else. I became the best. My parents," she bit her lip. "They were so proud of me. And I-" Her voice broke and she trailed off. She picked up her fork again and twirled it in her food absently, waiting in bated silence.

She felt his hand rest gently on hers, stilling her anxious motion. "What happened?" He probed softly. "What made you leave your job?"

"I just hated it," she glanced at him and he squeezed her hand encouragingly. "Although it took me awhile to realize that's how I felt. It was this great, big goal." She waved vaguely. "I spent my entire life trying to achieve it, and when I finally got there… I didn't enjoy it. Not any one particular thing. I kept thinking, once I get that promotion things will be better. Once I win that case, things will be better." Hermione shook her head. "But I got the promotions, and I won the cases, and things never got better. If anything, I hated it more. I think I've been in denial about it for a very long time."

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," Ron told her, his thumb moving along her hand slowly.

"About a week ago, I guess I'd had enough. It's the most impulsive I've ever been," Hermione laughed wryly. "I walked into my boss's office, told her thank you for the opportunity but I was pursuing other ventures, and I walked out. I spent three blissful days alone in my condo in London… and then Mum called."

"Did she know?" Ron asked, removing his hand and picking up his utilsels again.

"No, but I told her," Hermione sighed, following his suit and taking a bite. "She was quite angry. Says I'm a disappointment, and I'm to tie up loose ends here 'since I have the free time,' and then go meet her so she can sort me out. It has nothing to do with being together for Christmas."

"I haven't known you all that long," Ron grinned. "But you don't seem like the type who needs help sorting out her own life."

"She's always been like this, and it's hard for me to push back." Hermione unconsciously drummed her fingers on the table. "I'm unemployed, sure, but I have a decent amount of savings. I spent so much time working, I hardly knew how to spend my money. Eventually, I know I'll need a job and probably a new place to live with a much cheaper mortgage. But, somehow, I don't know… I feel free. Lighter." She smiled. "I'm dreading seeing my parents, don't get me wrong, but at the same time, I feel like something heavy has been lifted off of me."

"We've established already that you're brilliant," he told her seriously. "But if you're half as hard working and determined as I think you are, you're going to figure it out, Hermione."

Hermione paused, taken aback by the sincerity of his compliment. "Thanks," she replied, blinking her eyes rapidly to fight their mistiness.

"No problem," Ron said, and Hermione again found herself quite unable to break their intense eye contact. "Erm," he cleared his throat and checked his watch. "Are you done? We need to get back to your Nan's."

"Yeah, of course," she said, feeling her cheeks heat up. They paid the bill then stood to leave. As soon as they stepped out the door, they ran into two pale faced, bleach blonde men. Clearly father and son, they shared a likeness down to their identical and unpleasant scowls.

The older man sneered at her, while the younger one spoke in a nasally drawl. "Watch where you're going, Weasley."

Ron sucked in a deep breath, and Hermione eyed him curiously. He was immediately on edge, which was very unlike his usual, easy going demeanor.

"Malfoy," Ron responded tersely, placing his hand gently on the small of Hermione's back to navigate around the two men.

"Aren't you going to introduce us to your friend?" The older gentlemen's voice was lower, and he raised an eyebrow delicately at them.

"Hermione Granger," she spoke for herself. "You may have known my Nan, Eleanore Wilkins?"

"Ah, you're the granddaughter I keep hearing about," the younger man said curtly. "I'm Draco, and this is my father Lucius."

"Pleasure," Hermione responded, feigning politeness.

"We better get going," Ron interjected, and Hermione let him steer her a few more steps away from the Malfoys.

Once they were out of view, Hermione raised her eyebrows questioningly at him. "Who were they? I've not met anyone as unpleasant since I arrived."

"The Malfoys," Ron answered, sounding disgusted. "They're loaded with money, easily the richest family in town, but everyone knows they accumulated their wealth the dodgy way."

"What way is that?" She asked, feeling the noticeable loss of his hand on her back.

"Dunno for sure. The rumor is that they sell dark magical objects," Ron replied cynically.

She shuddered. "That's repulsive."

"It is," he assured her. "They live in this huge manor on the outskirts of town, but there's a constant stream of sketchy folk calling there."

"Here?" Hermione asked, surprised. "Ottery St Catchpole seems so perfect."

"It's far enough away that it doesn't affect us day to day, but they're definitely the pain point of our village. Swaggering around here, all elitist." He shuffled his feet, both hands in his pockets. "I wish they'd bugger off already."

Hermione hated the jaded look on Ron's face, when she'd grown so accustomed to his friendly gaiety. She cast around for something to cheer him up. "Let's go in here," Hermione announced, turning to a flower shop. "It'll cheer you up."

"Is that right?" Ron asked, the faintest smile on his lips.

"Yes," she nodded firmly, opening the door for him. "Flowers make everyone happy." She followed him into the shop, breathing in deeply. "And you can't compete with the smell of a florist," she added. "Oh this shop is lovely."

"You have good taste," Ron smiled. "Neville is the best around."

"Of course you know the owner," she said, rolling her eyes in jest.

"Ron and I go way back." Hermione turned around to see the slightly awkward looking man she'd noticed a few mornings ago. He smiled at her. "I'm Neville."

"Hermione," she introduced herself. "Nice to meet you."

"You're Nory's granddaughter, right?" Neville asked her as they shook hands.

"This town really is small," she laughed.

"Yeah, but it's loving," Neville smiled again. "What can I help you with?"

"We're looking for something that we can grow in east facing windows," Ron answered, surprising Hermione. She looked at him questioningly. "I thought they'd look nice in your Nan's front parlor."

She was touched at his thoughtfulness. "That's a great idea."

"And before you get carried away," Ron told Neville, who'd begun walking enthusiastically into the far corner of the store. "I don't know about Hermione here, but my thumb is not as green as yours Neville, so keep it simple." Neville flushed good naturedly, and changed course.

"He can grow anything," Ron stage whispered in Hermione's ear. His breath against her neck made her shiver pleasantly.

"How about this?" Neville offered them a circular terra cotta pot, overfilling with vibrantly colored plants. "Specially curated," he explained. "This one whistles a bit when you tickle it." He ran a finger lovingly down the spine of a leaf which let out a quiet noise almost like a bird call.

"How sweet," Hermione cooed.

"And this one, you can trim the leaves and use them as garnish on meals," Neville said enthusiastically. As he continued to explain all the various plants to Hermione, she caught Ron's eye in the background. He was watching their exchange with a gentle smile on his face, and she was pleased to see his demeanor returned to normal.

"What were you thinking about?" She asked him a few minutes later, after they'd settled the bill with Neville. They were walking back to her Nan's house, levitating the planter in front of them. "Back there, in the shop?"

"How well you seem to fit in here," he glanced at her, almost shy.

"Don't get used to it," she teased, nudging him with her shoulder. "I'll be leaving as soon as you can get rid of me."

"Yeah," he frowned and looked down at his feet, his mood altogether more serious than she'd anticipated.

Hermione was immediately sorry she'd said it, but distracted almost as quickly by the sight in front of her. "Oooh, I know that statue." She turned down the road by Boris the Bewildered, Ron following curiously on her heels. They stood by the wrought iron gate looking at what she now knew was the dilapidated library.

"It's quite sad," she mused. "I loved the library when I was a kid."

"Yeah, we did too actually," Ron replied, his eyes running over the worn down building. "What?" He asked her, catching her amused smile.

"You just don't really seem like the reading type," she laughed.

He shook his head and chuckled as well. "You'd be right about that, I'm not, not really. But it was inexpensive and great for building a sense of community. My parents would bring us here on family outings. I remember many epic games of hide and seek in those halls."

"I'm sure you were a handful," Hermione speculated, imagining a clan of redheads tearing through the shelves.

"We definitely were," he smiled at the memory. "It is sad to see the library like this now."

"I think so too," she agreed, frowning pensively.

"What, starting to invest in our town?" He nudged her gently.

"You could say that," she smiled. "It's crazy to think about how much more time I could have spent here, growing up. I wish I'd known."

"Why don't you get to know more now?" Ron inquired. "The annual ice skating rink is going up tomorrow. It's a big town event, kind of like the bake fair." His eyes searched her face, as they stood in front of the old library in the cold, just a hair closer to each other than they needed to be. "Will you go with me?"

"Yes," she breathed, barely having to think about it.

"Brilliant," he grinned. "C'mon, we have plenty to do this afternoon." She followed him back to the main road, trying to hide the smile on her lips.

* * *

Hermione

Four days before Christmas

* * *

Hermione could not believe it was snowing again, as she laced up the rental skates to go out on the rink. This time, she and Ron had accompanied Molly and Arthur to the event. Hermione was worried it was going to be filled with awkward silences, but Arthur had an unrelenting stream of questions about muggles, once he realized she was muggle-born. He was curious and good natured, and she enjoyed explaining things to him. Ron was very sweet with his mum, who had a tendency to lovingly nag her children, and got his sense of humor from his father. Hermione again felt blessed to be included in this family's holiday traditions, especially when compared to the reception she expected with her own. She supposed with running an inn, they were accustomed to incorporating strangers into their lives, but she was pleased to be one of them all the same.

"Ready?" Ron asked her, walking over awkwardly with his own skates already on.

"Er," she frowned at him. "I have mentioned I'm not good at this, right?"

"Often and with feeling," he flashed her the crooked smile that made her stomach somersault. "So let's go." He offered her his gloved hand, and she stared at it doubtfully. Ron laughed, waving his hand in front of her. "C'mon, Mione, I promise I won't let you fall."

She started, caught off guard by his use of the nickname. She placed her hand in his, letting him help her to her feet. "Mione?" She asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Oh, sorry," he said sheepishly as they bumbled their way to the ice. "Do you not like it?"

Her mum would hate it, Hermione knew, but instead she smiled up shyly at Ron. "It's perfect."

"Good," he grinned. They were at the front of the queue now, and Hermione stepped onto the ice carefully. She hugged the wall, holding it as she moved away from the door and around the perimeter of the rink. Ron, who was a much better skater, kept pace with her patiently. When she'd moved far enough away from the entrance to not encumber traffic, she came to a stop and leaned against the wall, looking around.

The center of the rink had a roaring bonfire, which crackled pleasantly as the skaters all moved clockwise around it. She supposed either the fire or the ice must be enchanted, because although it gave off an intense heat, the fire didn't melt the ice. The outside of the rink was lined with ornately decorated Christmas trees, and the inside was packed with people, some flying by as though born on skates and others more Hermione's speed. The snow continued to fall, dusting everyone's hats and hair, as bubbles that never popped floated overhead, flashing like Christmas lights. A live band played holiday music in the corner, elevated magically on a platform that seemed to sparkle.

"What do you think?" Ron asked her, leaning himself against the wall next to her.

"This is lovely," she murmured, taking it all in.

"I knew you'd like it," he exclaimed. "You can't stay here all night though." He extended his arm.

She sighed, but looped her arm through his and let him lead her away from the wall. They skated around the rink a couple of times, Hermione grinning, despite herself. The air was pleasantly crisp in her lungs, and the spirit of the crowd was contagious. She clung steadily to Ron's arm, telling herself it was to keep from falling, and not because she enjoyed the feeling of his broad body so close to hers, or his bicep underneath her hand. She snuck a look at his face, admiring the hard line of his bearded jaw in profile.

"There's Luna," Ron said excitedly, shaking her from her reverie. "C'mon, I think you'll like her." He led her over to exit the ice, and they sat at a small table with Harry, Ginny, and a blonde woman that turned out to be Luna. They chatted amiably for a few minutes, before Ron and Harry excused themselves to go get a round of hot chocolate.

"Spiked again?" Hermione asked Ginny once they'd left.

"If you like," Ginny chuckled. "We enjoy celebrating the holidays with spirit, as it were. But it's very good hot chocolate either way."

"My dad says that Firewhisky leaves your brain susceptible to Wrackspurts," Luna told her sagely, blinking her great big eyes slowly.

"Wrackspurts?" Hermione asked.

"They float in through your ears and make your brain go fuzzy," Luna explained.

"Are they real?" Hermione felt confused. "I've never heard of them."

"Dad says they are," Luna shrugged.

"Erm, Luna's dad is our mayor," Ginny supplied for Hermione. "He started the magazine that Luna still runs."

"Oh, an editor," Hermione remarked, feeling impressed. "What's your magazine called, Luna?"

"The Quibbler," Luna responded, and Hermione had to turn her snort into a cough. Ginny kicked her pointedly under the table, and Hermione had the decency to feel abashed.

"I've read one before," Hermione said, mustering her politeness. "It's very...er... interesting." Luna beamed, and Ginny winked and smiled at her.

"Hot chocolate?" Ron asked, handing over a takeaway cup and sliding into the seat beside Hermione.

"I have the Firewhisky," Harry grinned, placing a flask on the table.

Hermione had a wonderful time that evening, getting to know Ron's friends and family like she had the night of the bake fair. After a while drinking and talking, they'd all gone back on the ice, with Ginny and Ron getting into a humorously competitive race that had Hermione in stitches. Luna was odd, but endearing, and she'd helped Hermione get up after a particularly embarrassing crash without laughing at her. Ron let her lean on him some more, and she felt by the end of the night that she'd gotten marginally better at ice skating. Or maybe, just better at not caring that she was bad at ice skating.

They left the event in a large group that slowly dissipated, people turning off towards their homes and waving merry goodbyes. Finally it was just Ron and Hermione left, his parents having long since left the rink. They strolled down the street in a friendly silence. Hermione looked up, admiring the stars twinkling above in the clear night.

"I feel like I've said this a lot recently," Hermione smiled up at the sky, then turned to look at Ron. "But thank you."

"No problem," he grinned back at her. "I'm glad you've been enjoying yourself." They arrived at the Burrow Inn, Ron stopping at the door and leaning against the frame.

"I just realized, you don't live here," Hermione exclaimed, blushing. "You didn't have to walk me back."

"I don't mind," he held his hand out to her, which she accepted tentatively. "It's a nice night."

"It is," she agreed demurely, allowing him to tug her gently towards himself. Ron snaked his other arm around her waist, and her breath caught at their proximity. She gazed into the blue depths of his eyes, admiring the snowflakes perched on his pale lashes.

"I think my family likes you," Ron informed her quietly.

She smiled shlyly, asking, "they do?"

Ron flashed his lopsided smile, dropping his voice. "I know I do," he whispered, lowering his face towards hers. He paused just inches from her lips, their breath mingled. He was waiting, she realized, and was surprised that she didn't hesitate in her decision. Hermione raised to her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his. He reciprocated gently, the arm around her waist drawing her against him. She felt her heart flutter as his lips moved over hers, and put her arms around his neck to pull him closer.

The great heavy door to the Burrow Inn creaked open, causing Ron and Hermione to jump apart quickly. Arthur held a lit wand, squinting sleepily into the night. "Who's there?"

"Hey Dad, just us," Ron told him, his voice sounding strained. "I walked Hermione home from the rink."

"Oh, right," Arthur looked between them. "Ok, then, I'll just…" He trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

"You know, I'll come in with you," Hermione piped up, forcing a smile. "Thank you again for a nice evening, Ron." She glanced at him, clearly reading the disappointment on his face. "See you tomorrow?"

"Er, yeah," he returned. "See you tomorrow."

"Great," she responded, her voice oddly high pitched. She walked past Arthur into the inn, and beelined up the staircase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter! This is probably an unnecessary disclaimer, but I feel inclined to mention that I do believe the Malfoys are really much more complicated characters than I've made them out to be here. In the spirit of "Hallmark movie," I should warn you that they are extremely one dimensional in this fic, and I'm using them as easy antagonists for my very simple plot. So please, don't feel too upset if you think I've reduced them as characters- I think I have too! I hope you can still enjoy the feel good holiday story, for what it's worth. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter! Enjoy!

Hermione

Two days before Christmas

* * *

Her Nan's house was looking very nice, Hermione thought, as she stood in the main hallway, surveying the space. The walls were painted in various neutral shades, the wooden floors were installed, new light fixtures hung in every room, and the kitchen... That was the best part. Hermione stood in the doorway, admiring the pristine marble countertops that gleamed amid the perfectly matching state-of-the-art appliances. It had taken Ron two extra days to fix the water damage in the corner, although he'd proudly announced last night that it was completed. Good timing too, he'd told her, as tomorrow was Christmas eve. Ron estimated they could add the trim and hardware today, which was all that was left to do of the work they'd planned.

Ron. She blew out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, her thoughts overwhelmed by his face. He'd been the same since their kiss, friendly and flirty, but he hadn't tried to make another move. Why should he, she reflected, frowning at a smudge on the new paint. She'd been the one to run off without an explanation, hadn't she?

The truth was, if Hermione considered him just a random guy, she might not have hesitated. She was leaving town soon, so if there were no strings attached, then what was the problem? She scowled as she flicked her wand, inciting a spell to scrub at the smudge. The problem, she reflected sourly, was that despite only knowing him for a week, she was very far from having no strings attached. In fact, she didn't really want to admit how many strings he'd managed to latch onto her.

And then there was the little issue of her impending departure. She peered closer at the wall, scrutinizing the smudge again. She was leaving town in two days, and then that would be the end of that. Besides, there was one more thing that she needed to tell him, and she knew he wasn't going to like it. Maybe after he heard it, he wouldn't want anything to do with her anyway.

"I reckon you'll be able to put the house on the market tomorrow, if you want to," Ron's voice floated behind her, and she froze at the enormity of his mingled emotions, so clearly evident in his tone.

"Yeah," she squeaked, spinning around to look at him. She wrestled internally, examining the man before her and weighing her options, before sighing in resignation. "I'm uh… I'm not sure I'll need to. Put it on the market, that is."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked. He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. The depths of his blue gaze surveyed her intently.

"I got an offer yesterday," she explained, not meeting his eye. "A very generous offer, at that."

Ron frowned at her. "How could you have an offer already?"

"Small town, I guess," she shrugged. "Everyone around here seems to know what I'm up to."

Hermione nearly squirmed under his steady scrutiny before he spoke. "Then it's someone local, which should be good news, but you seem nervous in telling me." He cocked his head to the side, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. When all the color began to drain from his face, Hermione knew he'd figured it out. "No, Mione," he breathed imploringly.

She gulped, opening her mouth to speak a couple of times before the word finally escaped her lips. "Malfoys."

He stared at her dully, expression sinking into the agitated state he unconsciously adopted when it came to that family. "You can't be serious."

"I know you don't like them," she tried to keep her voice soothing, begging him to understand. "But I need to respect my mum's wishes. She technically owns this place. She wants me to take the first fair offer and close quickly."

"But Hermione," he said through gritted teeth. "They'll bring their business into the heart of our town."

"You don't know that," she argued, taking a few steps towards him. "They could rent it out, or use it for commercial business, or-"

"That's shite," Ron spat. "We both know what they're going to use it for, Mione."

Her tongue felt heavy at his use of her name, and she crossed her arms over herself instinctively. "We don't actually know what their business is. It's unlikely that they're going to move in, so who's to say what they intend for this space."

"I thought that this house, all those memories... I thought they meant more to you." Ron's voice was gravelly, raw, and her eyes felt misty at the sound of it. "I thought that I... that this town meant more to you."

"It's just business," she answered reflexively. "I know it feels personal, but let's approach it with logic."

"Right. Logic." They stared at each other for a long time, Ron as though seeing her in a new way. The thought made her cringe. "I'm going to get some lunch." He shuffled out of the house, the door slamming behind him.

Hermione sighed, feeling a knot settle in the pit of her stomach. She'd known that wasn't going to go well, but at least it was over. She pulled on her own coat and drifted out into the street aimlessly, not feeling hungry. She wandered until she reached the main square, then rested on the same bench she'd sat on with Ron what felt like a century ago, staring absently into the Narnia tree grove.

"Ms Granger," a familiar and unwelcome nasally drawl sounded off to her right, and she turned, not at all startled, to see Draco and Lucius standing there. "I trust you saw our offer on Eleonore's house?" Draco asked her, sitting down on the other side of the bench.

"I did," she responded carefully.

"It is significantly over the probable market value," Lucius barked, striding several powerful steps and coming to a stop in front of her with his hands behind his back.

"Er, yes, I suppose it is," Hermione replied. "I hope I have time to consider."

"That's why we're here actually," Draco said, picking at his impeccably black pea coat and looking bored. "You don't have time. We'd like to close this deal very quickly."

Hermione frowned at him. "The renovations aren't completed, and I haven't yet had it appraised."

"We'll add ten percent to the offer for your trouble," Draco answered dismissively, waving his hand. "And buy out the remainder of your contract with the Weasel, if need be."

"You mean Ron," she responded sharply, hating the slight against him.

"Today would be ideal," Lucius intoned, ignoring her correction. "We have… plans that need attending."

"Today?" Hermione stared at him, nonplussed. "You just want me to take your money and walk away today?"

"We'll pay cash," Draco affirmed, nodding. "What do you say?"

"I… I need to think about it more," Hermione muttered.

"You can have," Lucius checked a gold watch on a chain from his breast pocket. "Four hours. We'll send an owl for your response." She nodded, and men strode off again, leaving her more conflicted than ever.

The urgency of their offer made it infinitely more sketchy, and Hermione was inclined to agree with Ron that their business wasn't likely to be above board. On the other hand, she did have commitments to her mother, and felt obliged to follow her wishes. She'd only been here a week; how invested could she be in this town- or its people? She frowned, watching a fairy preen itself in the reflection of a floating bubble.

Hermione's mind was racing at top speed. Maybe it wasn't about an obligation to Ottery St Catchpole, or her mother's wishes. Maybe this was an opportunity for her to change her life; to be a different kind of person, with different priorities. Maybe this was a chance to choose a new type of family… even to find love?

"Sickle for your thoughts?" Luna sat lightly on the bench next to Hermione, blinking her large eyes.

"Hi Luna," Hermione responded distractedly. "It's nothing, really, how are you?"

"Wonderful," Luna replied. "I've just finished a piece on the Crumple Horned Snorkack that ought to really boost sales this month."

"Hmm," Hermione replied, lost in her thoughts. "That's nice."

"Yes it is, isn't it?" Luna gazed forward into the trees, and the two of them sat on the bench together in silence for several long minutes.

"Can I ask you something?" Hermione timidly ventured, fiddling with her wand in her fingers.

"Questions keep us alert for Nargles," Luna nodded.

"Right," Hermione eyed her companion. Luna was wearing a winter hat with pom-poms that fell down to her waist, a yellow puffy coat, and what appeared to be homemade jewelry. How this woman, who she had so very little in common with, could help her with her moral conundrum, Hermione had no idea. But Luna had something that Hermione envied, even if she couldn't quite put into words what it was. "Do you love what you do, Luna?"

"Oh yes," Luna purred. "Editing the Quibbler makes me very happy."

"Even though it's not the best in rep- er- sales?" Hermione asked cautiously.

Luna didn't answer for a while, her eyes trained on the movement of the magical hoof prints that were created and erased in the snows of Narnia. "You know," Luna said thoughtfully. "Following my heart has always made me feel more fulfilled than following my head."

Hermione turned to look at the woman, chewing on her lip as she considered this oddly pertinent answer. "Luna," she ventured again. "Is there any way I could talk to your dad today?"

"We can go right now," Luna smiled. "I was on my way there before I stopped to rescue you from the Wrackspurts. They were swarming you on this bench."

"Er, thank you," Hermione replied, and they both stood, Luna leading the way.

* * *

After speaking with Xenophilius, Hermione made a series of phone calls and sent a number of owls. She was so busy that she didn't arrive back at her Nan's house until later in the evening. Ron was in the kitchen waiting for her, a wrapped present on the counter.

"I know you have to sell to Malfoy," he said without preamble when she walked into the room. "I understand your predicament, I really do." He ran his hand tiredly down his bearded face. "I know it sounds like I'm being sarcastic, but the honest truth is that the smart thing for you is to take the offer. I support you; no hard feelings."

Hermione cautiously approached the counter, her eyes never leaving his. His features were sad, although determined. She wished more than anything she could make him smile.

"Ron, I…" She trailed off, unsure of what to say.

"I know," he told her, then he tapped the present. "I got you this for you to celebrate the house being finished, which it officially is, by the way."

She blinked in surprise, then whirled in a quick circle, taking everything in. He was right, the trim was up and the hardware was all installed. "Wow, Ron, it's perfect." She had to swallow past the lump in her throat. "It looks really nice."

When she turned back to him, he was smiling faintly at her. "I knew you'd like it." He stood up, swinging his coat over his broad shoulders. "Don't forget about us small town folk," he told her, placing his hand on her arm. She leaned into his touch, but it was gone in a moment. Ron stopped in the doorway, angling his head back to look at her. She drank in his blue eyes, trying to imprint them in her memory. "And good luck, Mione, you know, with everything. You're going to be great." Then he was gone.

Hermione stood in stunned silence, watching the empty frame of the door for far longer than she needed. She turned back to the present, opening it slowly. She found a small metal sign that read "Evergreen Cottage" in an elegant script. Ron had scribbled a note, tucked inside. _I ordered this in memory of your Nan. I thought it would be nice to know that a piece of your life lives on in this house, even when it has new owners. Merry Christmas, Hermione. -Ron_

Hermione read and reread the note several times, then pulled out her phone and sent a brief text to her mum: _I have an offer for you. Will send the details shortly._

* * *

Ron

Christmas Eve

* * *

Ron popped into Ginny's bakery shortly after lunch, thinking maybe one of her scones could fill the emptiness in his chest. He'd only known Hermione a week, but she'd awakened something within him, and he didn't think he'd be able to lull it back to sleep anytime soon.

"Hey Harry," he called, maneuvering around the crowd and walking behind the counter. He snagged a biscuit from the display.

"Oi," Harry shouted at him. "You have to pay for that."

"Add it to my tab," Ron said, his mouth already full.

"She's in the back," Harry gestured amiably. "Get out of my way, already."

Ron shot a grin at his friend, and ducked into the storage room. He found Ginny sitting at desk with a quill and several large tomes in front of her, balancing the store ledger. "Hey sis," he said, settling onto a stack of boxes and taking another bite of his biscuit.

"Did you pay for that?" She asked him sternly, scratching several lines onto a page.

"That is such a sticking point around here," he reflected, finishing the biscuit off. "Listen, do you know if mum rented out my room at the Burrow again? I was thinking I'd stay there tonight."

Ginny glanced up at him. "What're you talking about? You know it's rented."

"Hermione took the Malfoy deal," Ron shook his head. "She's long gone."

"Wrong, brother." Ginny stopped writing and gave Ron her full attention. "You really don't keep up very well on gossip."

"Well, update me then," he demanded impatiently, feeling his pulse quicken.

"Hermione turned the Malfoys down," Ginny reported. "It was the talk of the town this morning. They were livid, but there's nothing they can do about it."

Time stopped between heartbeats, as Ron stared at his sister, dumbfounded. "She…"

"Turned them down, yeah." Ginny picked up her quill again.

"So she… she hasn't left?" Ron asked, feeling stupefied.

"I imagine not," Ginny said absently, distracted by her books again.

"Right," Ron murmured, standing. "Turned them down, huh?" He left the storage room with a bounce in his step, leaving his sister behind him rolling her eyes.

* * *

Hermione

Christmas Eve

* * *

Hermione made her way down the main street, towards the tree lighting ceremony, the last big event of the Ottery St Catchpole Christmas season. Ron hadn't asked her to go this time, but she had resolutely dressed in her warmest clothes and ventured out into the cold of the night. She was determined to finish what she started here, in this quaint wizarding town, despite the path having taken her completely by surprise. The town was still yet more decorated, and now, after dark, every surface twinkled with multi colored lights. Hermione could have predicted nothing about the past ten days she'd spent here, but she wouldn't trade it for the world. Here she was, a virtual stranger, walking among a village that called out to her by name. She smiled and waved at the kind souls who greeted her, feeling further confidence in the decisions she'd made in the last twenty-four hours.

The energy was infectious as the entire village filed into the main square, where the largest Christmas tree Hermione had ever seen had been erected. It was beautiful magic, she thought, as she paused to watch a rose in one of the branches bloom, drop its petals, shrink, and bloom again on a loop. She smiled, walking a slow circumference around the masterpiece of a tree, taking it all in. There were real icicles hanging artistically, and ornate magical snowflakes that fell from the top of the tree to its base. Baubles adorned every limb, each more intricately formed than the last. There were tiny flying reindeer, laughing jolly Santas, glimmering cupcakes, color flashing candy canes, bowtruckles running up the strings of garland, and miniature moon calves that danced among the branches.

But the top of the tree, that was the showstopper. Hermione paused in her walk and took a few steps back, tilting her head to take in the captivating view. At the pinnacle of the tree was a large, twinkling ball of magic. It moved and gleamed the way a star in the sky might, sporadically shooting out rays of light and giving the effect that it was raining shooting stars.

"Fancy seeing you here." She turned her view away from the tree to find herself several metres from Ron, his voice rolling over her huskily.

"Hi," she responded, feeling shy. "I loved the sign for Evergreen Cottage. It's gorgeous. Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said. The lights reflecting off his eyes made them seem to twinkle even more.

"You must have ordered that very early on," she chanced, trying to gauge his reaction. "It was a custom design, right?"

Ron merely shrugged. "I heard you didn't take the Malfoy offer." His eyes swept over her face, and she shook her head, biting her lip. "Why not?" He asked, lowering his voice taking a step towards her.

"A better one came along," she responded hesitantly.

"What's that, then?" Ron asked, shoving his hands into his pockets and halting his progress towards her. His face gave away his feeling of confusion. "You got another offer?"

Hermione turned away from him suddenly, unable to maintain her eye contact with this man while she talked. Her heart was hammering, and she pretended to be inspecting the tree as she spoke in the calmest voice she could muster. "It was me. I bought the house from my mum."

She held her breath, waiting what felt like years for his reaction. "You." His voice was hoarse, and she could feel rather than see his intense stare on the side of her face.

"Me," she repeated firmly.

"And why," Ron took another step towards her. Hermione turned her head in time to see him lick his lips. "Why would you do that?"

"Erm," Hermione dragged her eyes away from his lips, which had quite distracted her, and dug around in her beaded bag, before extracting a flyer. She held it out to him timidly, turning to look at the tree again. "This."

Ron gently reached out his arm to accept the flyer, and examined it for several long minutes, while Hermione felt her insides squirming with anticipation. "The library is reopening."

It was a statement more than a question, but she kept her eyes firmly facing forward as she nodded anyways. "Yes."

"And what does this have to do with you buying Evergreen Cottage?" Ron took another step and placed his hand on her elbow, gently pulling her to turn and face him. She followed his lead, feeling dwarfed by his broad form, now so close to her.

"I spoke with Xenophilius," Hermione responded carefully, reading the nuances of Ron's face. "He agreed to a foreclosure price for it."

"You… bought…" Ron said faintly, looking stunned.

"The library," Hermione repeated, now determined for him to know the truth. "I want to rebuild it, to operate as not only a library, but also a bookstore and coffee shop. I've already spoken with Ginny about carrying her items on the menu." Ron's face began to light up in a way that made her stomach swoop, and she rambled on nervously. "I've contacted local schools to see if they want to do afternoon programs, and so far they've been enthusiastic. I also plan on carrying the textbooks for the magical boarding schools, which should be high earning items, and save people a trip into London." She stopped talking when he closed the distance between them by wrapping an arm around her waist.

"And then what?" Ron asked, smirking at her. "You're going to live here full time? Aren't you afraid you'll be bored in our small town?"

"I don't know," she answered him playfully, running her fingers up his arm. "I think I could find ways to pass the time."

His eyes darkened, and she felt the blood rush to her face. "But what about your parents?" Ron frowned at her.

"I had a very long-er- chat with my mum," Hermione responded. "She's not pleased, but in the end she accepted my offer to buy Nan's house from her. I made a few calls, and I'm going to sell my condo in London as soon as I can."

"I'm proud of you," Ron whispered. "I know that was a hard conversation."

Hermione nodded, gulping. Her glance kept being pulled back to his full lips. "That's sweet," she whispered. "Thank you."

"And your lawyer career?" Ron's face gave away his concern. "Do you think you'll miss it?"

"No." She shook her head firmly. "I think in another life, that might have been a good fit for me, but…" She looked at the enormous Christmas tree, at the shooting stars falling around them, at the cheerful crowd milling about, shooting knowing smiles towards the entwined couple, and she sighed peacefully. "Right now, Ron, what I want in my life is bigger than my job. I want a community like this, I want purpose and joy in my work, and I want…" She trailed off again, looking up through her lashes at him shyly. "I want a loyal, hard working, handsome man who sees me for all my flaws. That is, if he'll have me?"

The tree lit up behind them, and the crowd burst into cheers. Ron's face was glowing anew, washed with the light from the huge tree. Hermione turned her head to look at it, smiling. "Guess we missed the countdown. It's beautiful."

He used his hand to gently pull her face back to look at him. "You're beautiful," he said firmly, and leaned in to kiss her. Hermione let out a small moan, which incited Ron to pull her even closer. How long they stood by the tree, wrapped in each other, Hermione didn't know, but the best part, she thought joyfully, was that it definitely wouldn't be the last time she got to kiss Ron Weasley.

"I just thought of something," he exclaimed, pulling away from her a fraction. "What about the renovations at your new library?" His eyes danced with delight.

"Oh, I know a guy." Hermione grinned. "I was hoping he'd help me."

Ron graced her with the full force of his lopsided smile, before capturing her lips in his own again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fin! I hope you enjoyed my attempt at a Romione holiday story. Let me know if you liked it!


End file.
